An Auspicious Event

Twenty-three year old Sparrow Tarot shutters on the edge of his bed, no blankets to be seen. Theres no end in sight and the fright in his eye’s was unforeseen. What’s happening in his mind at this time, is much the same story.

    There sits a Gorrilla in a room with no door. This room is completely white, with no furniture or “standard” decoration. However there was some, decoration, morbid as it may be. Besides our Gorilla and her horrified face, seemingly staring into the empty space in front of her, lay a dozen horribly disfigured Albert Einstein’s, bloodied and bruised, with no reverence in sight. Now we zoom into the deep green eye’s of our Gorilla friend, speckled with brown and golden flakes. We notice some movement behind her glassy eyes and turn one hundred and eighty degrees to get a glimpse of what exactly she is focused on so intently that she doesn’t feel our presence in front of her. Once turned around we only see a small hole in the wall a square inch in diameter.

After another quick glance at the Einsteins to the left, we zoom into the hole in the wall. Now we can see clear as day, three points of extreme befuddlement. On the other side of the wall is a room much like the room we are now viewing from, minus the mass of scientific compost. White, with not but a single chair in the middle of the room. In the chair sits Marilyn Monroe,, tilting her head back as if to look towards her dogmatic god and shout for a hand. In front of her sits who else but Marilyn Monroe, mouth open wider than her eye’s, holding in her musky palms, the other Monroe’s hard cock, shaking it as you would a drunk snake.

At three ‘o'clock on the dot, an alarm went off in young sparrow’s mind. He awoke with a startled quarry upon his face. He was in his bed, fully dressed, however it appeared he was on the roof of an office building, abandoned for eon’s, in a rustic, decrepit city he had never the disadvantage to know. With great worry developing behind his droopy eyelids, he sprung from the forelooms of his ephemeral burrow into an entirely new atmospheric layer cake.

After wandering around aimlessly for exactly twenty-three minutes not finding a single door or conveniently placed parachute, Sparrow is forced to contemplate a leap of faith, to the next building over, where a fire escape is clearly visible along with another individual on the roof looking in Sparrows direction. Naturally as Sparrow not wanting to die yet, tried to reassure his brave intuition by taking a peek over the side of the building he intended to canter over. In doing so he noticed a fancifully bedazzled fire escape, keen to his quarry, that reached out with warm iron tendrils, and he stepped into the descent that seemed to get longer the further down it he got.

Amongst the struggle to stay dedicated to the now wobbling descent, Sparrow found it strugglesome to try to peer in the nye-blacked out windows of the office building, yet he continued to do so until he managed to spot a lick of movement behind his wide-eyed glare reflecting back in his direction as if to say “look away!”, but instead found himself leaning into the seemingly thick paned glass, so hard infact, the cracking of the glass, now scattered across the office floor, could have been heard throughout the entire city, had anyone been around to hear it. Sure enough,  there was. Before Sparrow could press his palms to the floor to shift his weight in a way to elevate his body off the ground, he heard the distinct cocking of a rifle, trifling around the thick gel holding back his black bangs. “Get on your knees!” A familiar voice said to a familiar face. Sparrow slowly, grudgingly, got up onto his shaky knee caps, and with his head still down, began to cry.

A single hot tear, sizzles in the thick, shit coloured carpet as Sparrow notices the assailants familiar pink bunny slippers. Sparrow, un-confessedly amused and just as confused, starts a slow, nerve-biting movement with his un-bruised noggin, to try and get a glimpse of his kidnappers face, and nearly as quickly as he was captured, he received a decimating smack of the brains, with the stalk of the rifle. Now nearly unconscious, Sparrows body is being hauled to a group of twenty-three other hostages with blood coming out of at least one orphus on each individual. With one eye half open, Sparrow can see a plate glass window with the reflection of his assailants torso. Right before Sparrow nodded into unconscious boundaries, his assailant turned around and pursued a squat making perfectly visible his horrifying face. It was the face of sparrow tarrow, with shock and grief showing just the same. Then in mere seconds, Sparrows conscious was shifted into the other sparrows body as simultaneously the other sparrow shot three bullet holes into the captured sparrows cranium, instantly executing him.

With no reason to back the silhouette of his actions, he turned and broke out into a sprint in the direction of the ruptured window pane. Within seconds he was not to be seen or heard from again by his wide-eyed spectators until the splintering of his bones on the rocks in the creek that runs through the forgotten city-scape, reverberated up to them.

At four o'clock in the morning, there came a knock from the landlord on sparrows apartment door due to a noise complaint by the neighbor. Sparrow might have heard it had the landlord not barged in to find the remains of sparrows body, splashed across his bedroom like a bowl of beet salad. The local investigators found but one thing not logged of blood. It was a note placed under his pillow with but a single drop of blood, later determined to not be from sparrow, that read:

    “May my Dreams Remain, Where my body does not.”